As The World Comes Crashing Down
by BeautifulCrimsonChaos
Summary: When Ishleen's family and town are destroyed by orcs, she finds herself thrown into the war of the ring...along with an unexpected love. Not a Legomance, plently of Hurt!Aragorn.
1. Chapter 1: Ishleen

As The World Comes Crashing Down: 1

Summary: Ishleen's family is torn apart by orcs only three days after her sixteenth birthday. With her village destroyed, Ishleen sets out to make her way in the world by herself. However, she never expected to be thrown into the war of the Ring. And yet, through all this darkness, Ishleen unexpectedly finds love...

I run through my destroyed village, Kyria. Houses have been reduced to smoking piles of rubble, fertile fields turned yellow by foul orc poisons. This is all that remains of my childhood paradise, smoking skeletons and sickly fields. And dead people, like my mother and father, ans my little sister, Ashling. All gone.

There is nothing left here for me now. The only possesions that survived the sack of Kyria were the clothes on my back and the charred basket of food I have tucked under my arm. How can this have happened to me? I was Ishleen Galrin, daughter of Maeve and Fingal Galrin and loving sister of Ashling Galrin. Now I am just Ishleen. Ishleen with nothing.

I can feel the sharp crunch of gravel through the worn parts of my boots, the icy bite of wind through the charred holes in my linen shirt and dirty leggings. I adjust the blanket that covers my elvish bow and make sure that my sword and knife are muffled by grimy rags. Female warriors are not accepted in society, and orphaned sixteen-year-old female warriors are probably killed.

With nowhere else to go, I head down towards the river. In the crepuscular light, I cannot see much. However, I have hunted along these banks for most of my life. I could make it here drugged and bound.

Finding a suitable place to sleep along a sandy spit, I curl up. For the first time since the attack, the full force hits me. Ashling is gone. Ashling was my everything, the very essence of my being ever since she was born. For her third birthday, I made her a bow and taught her to hunt. Of all the people in Kyria, we spent the most time together. And now, she is gone. Burned without the honour of being buried. I let out a wail and push my head between my arms.

"Ashling, where are you? Why did this happen to me? Why did I have to live while you died?"

My curly brown hair tumbles over my face and sticks to the wet tear-tracks. My hazel eyes shine out of grief. And that is how I fall asleep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When I wake, there is light streaming up at me from the center of the sky. I have slept into the afternoon, an unheardof for me. Usually, I can barely fall asleep in the evenings. But so much has changed since then. That Ishleen was a different person.

I stand up slowly, stretching my sore muscles. When I get to my arms, I notice a twinge, and look down to see a giant red cut gaping up at me like an obscene mouth. Bracing myself, I un-tense my muscle and watch at blood pours out of the open wound. I rip of off a corner of my shirt and bind it tightly. I wonder how it happened.

As I prepare myself to leave, I happen to glance down the river, shining pale blue against the sharp granite walls. There is something floating towards me, shaped like a man. Rushing down the river, I kneel and meet it.

It is a man, haggard and wet, barely breathing. He has curly brown hair that reminds me a lot of my own, except slightly more stringy, although that might be the wetness, too. Or the fact that I haven't seen myself in a mirror for over a week, and I probably look like a nightmare come to life.

Carefully, I lift the man out of the river and set him gently on the sand. He groans softly, and something in that groan touches my heart. But I can't afford to forget myself. Love is false, and it always is. Besides, I don't even know who he is.

"Wha...Happened?"

Not knowing what to say, since I have never seen this man before, and actually never even bothered to ask myself how he ended up in the river in the first place, I content myself with this:

"I'm not sure. You floated down the river to where I happened to be camping, so I pulled you out. What's your name?"

"What is yours?"

"Ishleen...Daughter of none."

"That is an interesting name, Ishleen, daughter of none. But how do I know you are not a servant of the Dark?"

"Because not four days ago my village, Kyria, was sacked by orcs. If you don't believe me, that is no fault of mine."

A weak smile lights up his lips.

"My name is Aragorn...Son of Arathorn."

A sound of trotting grabs my attention like the drunk men at the inn in Kyria used to grab their next drink. Turning, I see a riderless horse coming towards us. Upon arrival, the horse nuzzles Aragorn with enthusiasm and, bending its' knees in a very disarming fasion, flops down next to us.

"Do you know this horse?"

"I do not know. However, he has come at the opportune moment. He will bear me back to Helm's Deep."

I am absolutely petrified. As one of the Rohirrim, Kyria and her people would have been alerted by now if Helm's Deep was in use once again. Aragorn makes it sound as though the people of Rohan are already there. Why was Kyria not alerted?

"Do you mean to say that Helm's Deep is in use once again?" I try not to let the anger of my question show, but Aragorn picks it up anyways.

"Yes. The cities and villages of Rohan were evacuated three days ago. Why does this trouble you?"

"Because I am the sole survivor of the sack of my village, Kyria! No word came to us of the evacuation, and now my whole village is gone. How could the king have forgotten us?"

However, Aragorn does not deign to reply. Laying a battered hand on my shoulder, he pulls himself onto the horse, going pale at the effort. I ease myself on in front of him.

"I am coming with you. You are in no state to travel by yourself, and being the last survivor of Kyria, it would only be logical for me to regroup with my fellow Rohirrim.

"Do you want me to tie you onto my person so that you can rest?" I turn around to see my new friend slumped, barely concious, on the back of the horse, and decide that it is the appropriate choice, like it or not. Turning away from the banks, I kick our horse (who from now on we will just call Arath) into a fast-paced canter across the plains. I try not to look in the direction of Kyria as I ride.

So, please please pretty please review and I'll try to put responses up in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2: Only the Mightiest Fortress

**Hi there everyone! Here are the responses to last time's reviews!**

**FairElvenMaiden: I'm glad you think my story is awesome, and I feel for you and your trouble with computerized emoticons! Thanks so much for being my first reviewer!**

**CherryTree360: Yes, Ishleen is very much human. Thanks so much for reviewing and being my VERY FIRST FOLLOWER!**

**Mental cookies to everyone else who read, and REVIEW, PEOPLE! I promise I will answer!**

ONLY THE MIGHTIEST FORTRESS  
We have ridden, day and night, for about two days now. I ache from saddle-sores, and Aragorn is just as hurt as when we started riding. Sometimes he will murmur unintelligible things in his sleep. Sometimes he will return to the land of the concious and talk to me. But today is different. Today I finally see a change in him. His deep brown eyes sparkle slightly in the sunlight. He woke up at dawn and has not fallen unconcious since then. However, he is still bleeding and very obviously in a lot of pain. I'm a warrior, not a healer. There is not one thing I can do for him, and it makes me feel rather helpless.  
We trot over the crest of a ridge, talking to each other in hushed voices. There is something about the empty plains of Rohan that makes you feel like you have to ! be quiet...  
The sound of many booted feet marching catches my attention, and I look down in horror at the army marching past me, snarling and growling at each other as they go. Orcs. I would recognize them anywhere. Turning in my saddle, I see that Aragorn is also staring down at this awful sight in abject horror.  
"Ishleen," he says, "Take us to Helm's Deep. Now!"  
I kick Arath into a gallop, trying to ignore the fact that I can feel Aragorn tense up in pain. We cannot stop, not now. Those orcs are heading for Helm's Deep, and we have to warn the people there.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

After a hard day of galloping, we crest over another ridge. The sight on the other side takes my breath away. A deep gorge, filled with snaky tendrils of a bright blue river fills my view. Against the eastern wall, a huge fortress, seemingly carved out of the mountain itself, stands impenetrable, like an expressionless face. I have heard stories of the might of Helm's Deep, but nothing has prepared me for this.  
Very gently, I ease a quivering Arath over the edge of the long, steep slope that leads into the gorge. There are little, scrubby plants growing along the slope; each of them bear one tiny, white, star-shaped flower perched on top of the leaves. The sight reminds me a little bit of Kyria, where villagers used to grow the "Medhyla Flowers" in their gardens. Apparently, according to Fionnuala (pronounced Fin-U-la), one of the village girls who was two years older than me, the word "Medhyla" comes from the elvish "Medhyl", meaning "Shining". The thought makes me smile, for sometimes the Medhyla flowers really did shine to me, on dark nights when I heard the howling wolves on the way to the privy. Later, when I told Fionnuala that she was right, the flowes do shine, she snorted and turned up her sculpted nose. "Fairytale nonsense, Ishleen." She said. And I despised her for every day after that, until the day of the sack, when I found her, shaking in the last tremors of death. "You were right, Ishleen," she whispers, " The flowers do shine." And she held out a Medhyla flower in the palm of her pale hand, and placed it in my hair. Then, she gave one last shuddering breath, and died.  
A jolt brings me back to reality. Arath has slipped on some stones at the bottom of the gorge, nearly sending his two passengers and himself flying. Using as gentle a hand as I can, I rein him in and speak calmingly to him in nonsense language. It worked with the chickens we used to farm, so why not horses, too?  
Once we are over the rivers, I resume our pace to a fast gallop, bringing us closer and closer to safety...and warning the other of the dangers that are following us like hounds.

**How was that? Please tell me via review, I have 7 more chapters written, so the more reviews I get, the quicker I'll update (although I'll probably do another 2 yet today).**

**I love ya'll, especially those who reviewed!**

**S4E**

**P.S. What did you guys have for lunch today? I had a salami sandwich on pita bread.**


	3. Chapter 3: My Lord

**Just like I promised! There is one more chapter yet to come, so don't worry, the slight cliffhanger I left you one will be resolved (a very little bit) in the next chapter. However, the overall mystery of Ishleen's past probably won't be revealed until the end of this story, so you guys will just have to sit tight until then.**

**Wihtout further ado…**

MY LORD  
Arath's hooves clatter noisily on the impressive stone bridge that leads up to Helm's Deep. I stare around in wonderment; never before have I seen anything to match the scale and rugged beauty of this great fortress. I can feel Aragorn smiling at my wonderment.  
When we reach the end ofnthe bridge, a strong set of wooden gates open to reveal a secret world of scurrying peasants, rushing to and fro amidst a clutter of baggage and squalling children. I want to cover my ears from the noise, the sound of a crying child makes me feel intense stress.  
However, the noise is ceasing, the people beginning to gather around Aragorn and myself, murmuring things like "He has returned!" and "Who is the maid that rides before him?". Needless to say, I feel more than a little nervous. Slipping off Arath, I help Aragorn off after me, slipping my arm around his waist discreetly so as to support him. Before we entered the city, Aragorn lent me a spare cloak to cover my face, and now I pull the hood down even further. I am shy by nature, and all these whispering, gossiping peasants make me feel incredibly self-concious.  
A deep, gruff voice penetrates through the crowd.  
"Where is he? I'm going to kill him!"  
Instinctively, I loosen my sword in it's sheath, causing a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. Oops. I forgot that I am a woman. However, it's too late now. A short, stalky dwarf erupts from the crowd and rushes up to Aragorn, nearly bowling him over as he embraces him.  
"You are the luckiest, most reckless..."  
And then he stops short, staring at me, gaze trickling slowly down to my semi-drawn sword.  
"And who is this daring man, who would try to draw on a dwarf?"  
"Peace, Gimli," Aragorn speaks in a hushed tone, "This is Ishleen, and I assure you she means you no harm. Ishleen, this is Gimli, my friend."  
I release my death grip upon my sword and remove the hood of the black cloak lent to me by Aragorn. My curly hair tumbles down to the middle of my chest and I instinctively shake it back, relvealing my hazel eyes. I am not beautiful, not by any stretch of the imagination. The ugly scar on my left cheek assures that. So why did the whole crowd gasp?  
"Gimli, where is the king?"  
The dwarf indicates vaguely in a direction leading up a set of stairs, and we turn. I withdraw my arm from Aragorn's waist; I would find it degrading to walk with aid up a simple staircase, and I'm sure he does, too. Besides, he's strong, he can manage it.  
When we reach the top of the staircase, a blonde elf stands, his back turned to us, and Aragorn lets out a very slight breath of surprise.  
"Legolas!"  
The elf turns, and joy is visible on his face to see a friend. I smile shyly and wave.  
"Legolas, this is Ishleen. "  
Legolas nods and looks at both of us.  
"Nayra in len." He murmurs, "Caira tenel riantha!"  
Aragorn inclines his head at these words. I, however, am more interested in the young woman across the hall who looks up at Aragorn with wonderment in her eyes. Then, as Legolas hands Aragorn a beautiful necklace, her face falls visibly. There is something at work here that I was not aware of. And I intend to inform Aragorn of it later. Someone is in love with him.  
I am forced to turn away from the Rohan maiden as we march off in the direction of a set of great wooden doors. Together, Aragorn and I shove them open and march inside. King Théoden is waiting.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Ten thousand strong, you say?" Théoden's brow wrinkles in worry. He looks young and yet old, with his golden hair and age-lined face. I don't like him much, probably because of what he did to Kyria. Willingly or unwillingly, he let my family and friends die.  
"And who stands by your side now, Aragorn?" There is something akin to disgust that crosses the king's features.  
"This is Ishleen, daughter of none, sole survivor of the sack of Kyria." Apparently Aragorn caught on to this look, too.  
"Kyria? Sacked?!" Shock and surprise echo in Théoden's face.  
" Yes," I reply, slightly more coldy than I intended, " I believe it was five or six days ago now that orcs ravaged my hometown. They left none alive save for me and a stray pig, which I was forced to kill to eat. My sister, parents, neighbors and friends are all gone."  
I hope this allows the message to sink about what he permitted to happen. It does, because the king puts his head in his hands.  
"Their deaths will be avenged, I promise you. We will kill those that murdered your family."  
Aragorn shakes his head.  
"Not with the force we have here. Call for aid, my king. Send out riders."  
Théoden turns around, and we stop. I have not even realised we were walking until then.  
"And who will come? Elves? Dwarves?" here he gestures at Gimli and Legolas, who were following us at a safe distance, "No, we are not as lucky in our allies as you."  
"Gondor will answer your calls."  
Théoden's eyes widen, and I can tell that Aragorn has crossed a line. A line that nobody but him would dare to cross.  
"Gondor," he spits in fury, and my hand snaps automatically down tonmy sword, "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Gondor..." Théoden seems to remember something, and he stops himself, "No, my lord Aragorn. We are on our own."  
My lord? Théoden is a king, and a very proud one at that. What business does he have calling my scraggly, travel-worn friend LORD? Not for the first time, I have the feeling that there is more to Aragorn than meets the eye. It's an extremely unnerving feeling, I know because I give people this feeling myself. There is much more to my past than a simple Rohan village destroyed by orcs. But all I have left of that past now is my elven bow and the scar on my left cheek.


	4. Chapter 4: Double Strength

**And here is today's last chapter! Actually, I'm rethinking my strategy now and I think I'll post all the chapters I've written so far, with perhaps one extra that I'll write just now. I really hate disappointing all my readers by leaving them hanging…**

DOUBLE STRENGTH  
"No! I will not go to the caves with the women! I refuse. We need every warrior we can get, and I have trained for longer than most of the men who will be allowed to fight."  
Aragorn shakes his head.  
"I cannot allow you to fight."  
I have to show him that I can fight. Drawing my knife from under my cloak, I place it against his throat.  
"I challenge you. If I manage to hold you in a death position at the end of this duel, you will allow me to fight. If you defeat me, I will go to the caves with the women and children."  
Aragorn inclines his head. I can see from the look on his face that he expects to win this duel without much resistance, which frustrates me. I have not trained my whole life to have my one friend scorn my fighting skills. Whipping my knife down, I feint towards Aragorn's ankle and flip the blade up to his stomach, which he blocks easily, putting in a strike of his own at my left arm. He's smart, and has realised that my scar probably impairs my vision, and makes contact. Snarling, I attack with renewed effort, placing down a flurry of blows, not even noticing the crowd of gaping Rohirrim who have crowded around to witness this duel. Normally, this would have bothered me, but Aragorn holds my full attention. I have not encountered such skill since I lived with...well, not for a very long time.  
Suddenly, I see an opening as Aragorn strives to place a "fatal" blow on my heart (we would never actually kill each other), and I strike for his neck. Apparently he saw the opening at the same time, though, because he, too, strikes for my neck, and we end the duel with our blades at each other's necks. At exactly the same time.  
Disengaging, Aragorn steps back and stares at me. Instantly, I feel badly. I have completely forgotten that he is injured, and about to fight in the battle of Helm's Deep.  
"I'm sorry!" I rush forward, sheathing my blade. We are both gasping and out of breath.  
"It's fine. You may fight." Aragorn gives a strange little nod and spins on his heel, marching off through the crowd that parts in front of him like a living river. I simply stare after him, hunting knife hanging limply from my hand. Worry courses through me. What if I have alienated him by requesting this duel?  
Suddenly, the crowd parts again, and Legolas, the blond-haired elf, moves to stand next to me.  
"Aragorn has informed me that you are to be given new clothes and outfitted for battle." He frowns.  
"Does this disturb you?" My query makes his frown deeper.  
"Yes. Nobody just defeats Aragorn. He has trained with a sword forall his life. So how did you do it?"  
"I had an unfair advantage. He is still injured from the river, and he is sleep-deprived from outr journey here."  
"So are you." Legolas helpfully points out.  
"But not as severely as he. And I, too, have trained for my whole life. Where do you think I got my scar? I have seen battle before."  
"I do not believe that asking you where a Rohirrim girl got training would get an answer."  
"I am not from Rohan."  
And we leave it at that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Does this fit you?" Legolas looks slightly exaperated, and I don't really blame him. We've been trying to find chain mail that will fit me for over half an hour now, and nothing does. Apparently, no one took women into consideration when they were stalking Helm's Deep for battle.  
"No. It is too tight around my waist and too loose at my shoulders. I understand, however, that you, too, must prepare for battle as well. I can go without armour. I have before."  
"No, Ishleen," Legolas shakes his head, "I have one more thing that might fit you. It was mine when I was younger, and I carry it for sentimental reasons. However, I am sure it's fine metal would sing for joy to be used in battle once more. "  
He turns to his pack, neatly deposited in the corner of his room, and removes a shining mail shirt and leather bracers and greaves bearing a strange crest, that of a swallow flying over a shining sun. I take these precious thing up in my arms. It almost feels like a crime to wear something so beautiful into such carnage.  
"Oh, Legolas," I whisper when I slip on the shirt, "It's perfect, but I cannot wear it. It is too beautiful, and I am not beautiful enough to wear it."  
Legolas smiles slightly.  
"If I am beautiful enough to wear it, then you are more than worthy. Besides, it matches the crest carved into your quiver." He looks at me with a question plain on his face.  
"I am not currently at liberty to tell you where I got that quiver. I am sure you will find out in due time." I add bitterly.  
Legolas hands me a soft white linen shirt and a pair of black leggings and brown leather boots, supple and soft to allow me to move more freely. I gasp as I take them. I have not even seen boots this beautiful for a very long time.  
"Legolas, why are you doing this for me? I am a nobody from a sacked village, we might as well be complete strangers to each other. And yet you give me fine elven boots, your own armour, and the finest quality clothing. You treat me like the princess I am not."  
He frowns at me.  
"Because I recognize you from somewhere. A childhood memory conjured up from the moment I saw you. Have you ever been to Mirkwood?"  
Mu heart begins pounding in my chest. Shakily, I murmur a fearful "no". Legolas does not look convinced, but he leaves it at that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Not knowing where to go, I follow Legolas as he walks through a myriad of passageways that lead him down to a circular room. Aragorn is standing in the middle of the room, holding his sword at arm's length, inspecting it.  
He looks up when we enter, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise when he sees me. Legolas walks up to him,  
"You have lead us this far and not gone astray...I was wrong to despair. Forgive me."  
I feel happy that I haven't lost all my High Elvish that I learned as a child. I can understand every word, but I probably could not speak it as well as I used to, when it was pretty much the only language I spoke.  
"There is nothing to forgive." Aragorn claps Legolas' shoulder in a friendly manner. Then he turns to me, "You left your weapons here earlier. I took the liberty of finding you a new belt to put them on."  
He hands me a simple brown leather belt with my long hunting knife and elegant sword. Then he smiles.  
"I apologize for spiting you earlier. Do we fight today as friends?" A hand is extended to me, and I take it, placing my other hand on Aragorn's uninjured shoulder.  
"We fight as friends."  
And a horn sounds.

**Please review. I promise and swear on all my honour and my prolific crush on Aragorn that I'll respond!**

**S4E**


	5. Chapter 5: Elven Recognition & A Battle

**And another chapter. Remember, I wasn't going to post this chapter today, so please by grateful and do me a favour: REVIEW! **

**Enjoy!**

ELVEN RECOGNITION  
"That is no orc-horn!" Legolas exclaims, and Aragorn and I follow him as he runs up the stairs.  
Upon arriving at the gates, we are greeted by a haunted sight. Ranks of elves, silent as ghosts, cloaked in grey mist, marching through the gates. Théoden is speaking to a familiar elf. Haldìr! No, no, no, please don't recognize me. But the tall elf looks up, and stares at me in surprise.  
"Ishleen?" He mouths.  
I put my finger to my lips. I don't know what will happen if anyone here finds out my connection to Loth Lòrien. But it will not be good.  
Aragorn shoots me a strange look before he descends the staircase and embraces a slightly startled Haldìr. If this had happened in different circumstances, I would have laughed at Haldìr's expression.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I cling to my bow, trying to get some warmth from it's presence. My hair is so wet it has become straight, and my eyelashes are dripping. And yet, the orcs hold back. The commanding officer stands atop a huge rock, bellowing fearsomely. Aragorn lays a hand on my shoulder as the howling stops. I think he can sense my feelings towards these creatures.  
Along with the other elves, I nock my arrow and draw back, following Aragorn's orders. I set my aim on a smallish orc near the front, who is not as easy to notice, which would give him an advantage had I not aimed for him. My aim is rarely untrue.  
Aragorn's sword falls, and I shoot. Sure enough, the little orc falls and is trampled by his fellows, who are still seething forwards, pikes diagonally pointed in the air.  
"Ladders." Aragorn murmurs in Quenya.  
"Good." I am a little startled, I had no idea that Gimli understood Quenya. But ever since Kyria was destroyed, my life has been full of surprises.  
I see a horrendous orc, standing on top of a ladder and staring straight at me. I loosen my sword in it's sheath, drawing at the last possible moment and stab the orc in the gut. Then I snarl and disengage, turning to see Aragorn fall to his knees, struggling to fight an orc nearly twice his size.  
"No!" I dispatch of another orc with a quick thrust of my sword and rush to his side, killing his opponent with little difficulty and helping him to his feet.  
"Are you ok?"  
"Yes. The orc caught me off my guard. I am fine, do not worry."  
I whirl away to engage another orc, not thinking again about it. Aragorn can look after himself. I hope.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It is a long time where nothing is clear. A sort of haze of orcs and swords and killing surrounds me. This happens to me in battles. I cannot remember anything. However, I do remember the horror of seeing the wall blow. The horror of realising that Aragorn was on that wall when it blew.  
I sprint to the ragged edge of the ripped wall and peer down. Sure enough, Aragorn has fallen and is lying in the dirt. Sheathing my knife, which I have just used to stab a tall, slimy orc in the gut, I leap over the edge.  
Flying through the air, feeling it on your face, is such a strange sensation. You feel so weightless and free. When you're not worrying about one of the three friends you have dying, this can actually be a pleasant sensation. But I'm too preoccupied with advancing orcs and Aragorn's injuries to notice this type of thing.  
I land in the dirt with a slight thud, crouched over. This is a trick I learned from an old friend in the days when I tended to fall out of my flet a lot. But never mind that. It was another life, which I was brutally deprived of.  
The orcs are jeering at me, a lone warrior trying desperately to save a friend. They do not understand love, friendship or loyalty.  
However, their jeering soon turns to outright mockery when they see I am a teenage girl.  
"His mistress has crawled from the cowardly caves from which she came, I see. Come to enjoy his corpse, pretty thing?"  
"No. I have come to kill you."  
This statement is met by more jeers and guffaws, but I silence them with a few well-laid blows from my knife. The jeers are turned into howls of pain. I will make them suffer for this.  
But there are more orcs pouring into the opening in the wall. I can't stay here. Turning to where Aragorn lay, I am shocked to see him at my side.  
"At last we fight together?" it isn't a question.  
"Yes."  
And we charge into the fray, a contingent of Haldìr's elves following us closely. I am still a little bit worried about the fall Aragorn took, but as I said earlier, he can take care of himself. Right?

**Please, for the love of the world as we know it, REVIEW FOR ME! I will be eternally in you debt.**

**S4E**

**P.S. What do ya'll like to do for hobbies? I'm a diver, horseback rider and dancer (I do ballet). Is there something you guys have always dreamed of doing but can't? For me, that can't is flute lessons.I have always wanted to take them, but I don't have the time because dancing dominates my life. If one of you guys takes flute lessons, please tell me!I need your number so I can track you down to teach me.**

**Haha just kidding. I live in Palm Springs, California, and you guys are from all around the world. I'm almost positive my parents won't let me travel to Greece or somewhere for lessons!**

**S4E**


	6. Chapter 6: Wise Words from a Young Mouth

**Oh, I give up. My empathy is too strong to resist the urge to give you guys another update.I hope you enjoy it, though!**

WISE WORDS FROM A YOUNG MOUTH

I don't know when I realised that something was wrong. I think it was when Haldìr died. That hurt me so much. As I have mentioned earlier, Haldìr and I have known each other for a very long time. But I had decended into a haze of pain from ealier injuries, and this sadness barely even computed for me at the moment.  
Now, I throw myself again and again at the stormed gate, killing ruthlessly. Blood trickles down every part of me. I have a cut on my thigh that is so big the only thing I can do to keep myself from bleeding to death is to tense it. My beautiful sword is stained at the handle from my own blood. And yet I fight on, because I will not abandon my friends.  
"Aragorn!" Théoden's voice penetrates over the crowd, "Hold them back!"  
"How long do you need?"  
"As long as you can give me!"  
Aragorn snatches me and Gimli up and drags us through a little door in the side of the wall.  
"What are you doing?" I demand irritably.  
"I am holding back the army, as Théoden ordered me to."  
Aragorn tosses Gimli over on to the bridge, and leap out after him. Once again, that strange sensation of flying overcomes me. I land on the bridge next to Gimli, and Aragorn lands next to me. And so we are whirled into the flow of battle once again. I feel that inexorable pull of fate that could pull me off the brink between life and death that I stand on right now. Often I wonder why it has never pulled me. After all I have done, I do really deserve to die.  
My thoughts are interrupted as an orc grabs all three of us from behind. I lash out at him with the pommel of my sword, but for some reason, I cannot get to him. I prepare myself for that fatal blow. And a rope lands on the bridge.  
Legolas! I should have known. I help Aragorn grab Gimli and all three of us crowd onto the rope, which Legolas single-handedly pulls up. When we reach the top, we immediately fly for the Keep. I have reached down for the knives that I keep in holsters up my wrists. Flipping them out, I give an orc in front of us two identical slashes on the face, clearing the way for us to get to the Keep.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOO

Again and again, I help Legolas pull heavy beams up to the inner keep door and brace them there. Aragorn has engaged himself in some kind of debate with Théoden, and I don't blame him. Théoden's leadership over the past few hours has led to countless deaths that could have been prevented. And now the orcs are going to break into the caves, and there is not one thing we can do about it.  
"Ride out and meet them!"  
This is the only part of the comversation that I hear, and it is a logical opinion. There is only one way for us to save the women and children now.  
"I agree."  
Théoden looks up, and for a moment something akin to sadness and loneliness crosses his face.  
"Ishleen, what do you know of military strategy?" apparently his facial expressions do not have any sway over his mouth.  
"I have my whole lifetime's worth of experience. Do you want to save your people, or will you die cowering in your keep? The choice is yours, Théoden-king." I march away to continue helping Legolas, but Aragorn catches up to me.  
"That was unwise," he is very angry, " you would dare insult your own king?"  
"I did not insult him. I made him see the truth he refused to see. If am insult is the only way to do that, then I will gladly use one."  
Aragorn nods, and then smiles a very little bit.  
"Wise words that come from so young a mouth. I have yet to get used to it."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn found me a horse somewhere, a beautiful gray thing with little brown spots covering it's rump. Her name, as I named her, is Ashling, the name of my dead sister. I slip my hands through Ashling's mane, trying to wipe the sweat from my hands as we wait for the gates to fall.

**Please, review for your favorite authoress. I also have a dilemma for you guys. I'm going to an arts school this fall, and I'm very shy and scared about moving schools. I'm also terrible at making new friends because I'm shy. Do you guys have any solutions to help me make new friends and adjust?**

**~Anastasia (I feel you guys have a right to know my name, since you're reading my story).**


	7. Chapter 7: The Charge

**Ok everyone, next chapter underway because I got a review from the wonderful CherryTree360.**

**CherryTree360: Oh no! It's great that your lunch was good, but right across the street from the aqaurium? That doesn't bode well. Personally, I suspect murder of the aquarium's inhabitants. ;)**

**To the rest of you, keep reading!**

The gate falls, and I catch my breath a little bit. The orcs that have survived this long are strong and experienced, which doesn't bode well for us. However, there is no turning back now.

"Forth, Eorlingas!" Théoden cries, leading the charge down the gateway.

I place my knife back in it's sheath, there isn't much good it can do me now. Because I am reaching down to kill my foes, I need something with a longer reach. Swords are useful for so many things. Sometimes I wonder why it's not a law that everyone carries one.

I am surprised at how easy it seems to knock the orcs off the bridge leading up to the keep. Since Ashling blocks all of the center, and my sword swings at my left side, most of the orcs only have one choice; go up the right side. Luckily for me, orcs do not have very good balance, and most of them tumble down and away, into the pile of carcasses that already lie, a monument to the dead and the brave, against the great wall. It is a sobering sight.

Once our charge gets off the bridge, though, things do not go nearly as well. The orcs come from every side, frothing and foaming like rabid dogs that used to run lose in Kyria.

_So this is how it ends._

And then a piercing white light shines over the crest of the rock wall. A light that shine from the end of a great staff.

**Ok, I know it's, like, the shortest chapter in existance. But I busted my butt at the computor all day long, so cut me some slack.**

**Please review.**

**~Anastasia**


	8. Chapter 8: Poisoned

**A new chapter! I'm on a roll here.**

**FairElvenMaiden: I envy you! But I guess since you take flute lessons, you probably can't do some other stuff that I can...**

**MedievalHarpy: I'm really glad you like my story. You should totally read the books if you haven't already. They're some of the best literature on the planet!**

**CherryTree230: I love the way you're always on a lookout for my latest updates. Yu rock!**

The horses from Eomer's company tumble down the sharp gravel slope and into the valley. The man cloaked in white who rides and the front of the company is so majestic, like a bird of prey. The orcs cower before him.

Next to me, Theoden is shouting something about victory, which I do not really hear. The majesty of the moment has caught me and held me in it's sway. I turn to see if Aragorn is likewise captivated, and my heart nearly stops beating. My friend is slumped over on his horse, pale and shuddering.

"Aragorn! Mellon-nin!"

He looks up, and straight into my eyes. His are deep brown pools of pain. I have to get him out of here.

Taking the reins of his horse in my left hand and steering Ashling with my right, we make our way back into the fortress. Two men, posted to keep watch at the gate, stare at me in surprise. We must be quite a spectacle, a sixteen-year-old girl with her wild curly hair askew and soaked in blood leading the horse of Aragorn through the gates.

After we enter the great fortress, I half carry, half drag Aragorn into the king's hall, which has been converted into a healing ward. Laying him down on the nearest bed, I run to a young woman standing close by.

"Are you a healer?" I demand.

"Yes...but..."

"Aragorn has been injured, come quickly."

"Lord Aragorn...I can't do this, I'm sorry. I am only a healer in training and I am not allowed to work without a superior supervising me."

"Please. He needs your help. If he truly is a lord, then you cannot allow him to die."

The young girl nods slowly and walks nervously over to where I have laid Aragorn down. After a moment's inspection, she looks up, fear showing plainly in her blue eyes.

"He has been poisoned." She whispers

I know so short, but I don't have much time. Please keep on reviewing. It makes my day.

Also, I did change my username, but it's still me!

BeautifulCrimsonChaos


	9. Chapter 9: The Honor Of Friendship

**Yay! I really do believe I'm on a roll these past few days with all the updates I've been vomiting out of my brain. On to the reviews…**

**FairElvenMaiden: I'm so sorry, but I can't resist. It's a flaw of mine, I'm afraid. This chapter doesn't solve everything, but perhaps it will lighten your path.**

**Thorongirl: You're right, thanks so much for giving me a heads up. However, I haven't really decided on canon pairings yet. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to omit the Aragorn/Arwen one, as it rather ruins the concept of this story. The only pairing I'm sure of right now that is going to be prominent in this story is Aragorn/Ishleen. Thanks, you got me thinking!**

**Starfire341: It's awesome that you're reading all my stories! It makes me super-happy to know that someone is enjoying everything I write. I have to say that Shafts of Hope is probably my worst composition on this site, but someone still likes it. That gives my writing self-esteem a real boost. Hope you're enjoying!**

**To the rest of you, keep on reading and maybe drop me a review sometime in the near future. I've pumped out so many updates in the past few days, surely you concede I deserve it. BTWS, check out the most awesome story ever, Worlds Apart by SleepyHollow15. Ok, LOTR is better, but it's one of my faves on this site…**

Sleep threatens to cloud over my vision, like a curtain obscuring the sun streaming through an open window. But I stay awake, keeping vigil over Aragorn. I have promised myself that I will not leave his side until he is well again. Perhaps, if I stay with him, he will feel my presence and live. Hopeful, but unlikely.

"Lady Ishleen!"

Legolas strides up next to me. He is spattered in blood and grime, and has a large welt forming on his forehead.

"What happened?" he asks, gesturing at Aragorn's still form.

"He was poisoned by an orc blade." I cannot force myself to say any more, for fear I will break down in tears. However, Legolas has obviously known Aragorn much longer than me. What can he be feeling, and how is he managing to hide it?

Legolas sits down next to me and smiles a little bit.

"This scene is not so unfamiliar to me. When we were young, Aragorn spent much of his time in Lord Elrond's healing ward, with me watching at his bedside. Do not fear, he has lived through many poisoned blades. I am sure that this one will be no exception."

I see his confident expression waver for a moment, and then return.

The young healer, who introduced herself as Éara, appears next to us, a weak and watery smile upon her face.

"I have spoken to one of the senior healers," she says proudly, "And he has said that many of the wounded suffer from the same affliction as Lord Aragorn. It is treatable, and Renwor, my superior, has allowed me to treat it."

"Thank you," I manage to choke out through my veil of nervousness and happiness, "We are forever in you debt."

Éara only seems to notice Legolas when I say the word "we", and she flushes when she looks upon him. I have to admit, the two look surprisingly similar. Éara has golden hair french-braided down the center of her back, and smiling blue eyes. Her eyebrows are high and permanently arched.

"Lord Legolas. It is an honour to meet you." She holds out her hand shyly, and Legolas takes it, smiling. Inside, I feel butterflies at seeing Éara look so happy. Over the past few hours, she and I have become close, and is makes my heart sing to see the look of rapture that overtakes her when she stares into Legolas' eyes. However, I know deep down it is not meant to be. Éara will probably never see Legolas again. It seems almost cruel.

"Lady Éara. Thank you for welcoming me thus kindly. Perhaps someday I shall have the honour of returning the favour."

That is odd speech for Legolas. However, I guess it is just his attempt at being overly gentlemanly and polite.

Éara flushes again and turns back to the table where she is mixing dried herbs. I will have to tell her later not to get to in love with the stunning elf. Very soon, he will be leaving Helm's Deep, and it is my honour as Éara's friend not to allow her to become enamoured with this fleeting soul.

**Just FYI, I am not turning this into a Legomance. That plotline is far too overused and I think we're all sick of it, right? And if we're not, I guess you're not going to get any luck here. Éara and Legolas are NOT meant to be. It's just a passing fancy on Éara's part and kindliness on Legolas's. Don't worry!**

**Please review, and thanks again to all who did last chapter. You guys make my day, no joke! I'm gonna do a 20-review shout-out, so keep reviewing, everyone!**

**Love ya,**

**Anastasia (AKA BeautifulCrimsonChaos)**


	10. Chapter 10: The Glass Heart

**OK, people. Here are the latest review responses. Thank you to all who did, you have a place in my heart *Hugs*.**

**FairElvenMaiden: It makes me really happy that you keep coming back to review! It means that I have at least one person hooked on this story! And yes, I feel terrible for Éara, too, but what the heck? It ads character development to the story, especially for Legolas and Ishleen, showing that Legoals is very kind, and that Ishleen is confident enough to deal with her friend's fire when she tells her Legolas isn't really all that interested in her. I'm also glad you're excited for the Ishleen/Aragorn realtionship, and happy that someone sides with me on my opinion that Legomances are WAY too overused, especially lately.**

**YuKiOnA-Ga: Holy, that's one complicated username! It took me ages to spell it correctly, and much shifting between windows so that I could remind myself of it. You're very welcome, I enjoyed your story a lot! Keep up that great work and please review again!**

**Ok, peeps, let's make it three reviews next time…*checks watch*. Oh no, I had better get going, The Next Star is on in half an hour and I don't want to miss it!**

**A HEART OF GLASS**

"Éara, look at me." I whisper sternly. There are tears rushing down my friend's face, "Legolas and you aren't meant for each other. You need to find someone that you can be happy with, and who can make you happy."

"But…that IS Legolas to me! Why doesn't he see that we where made for each other?"

"He is being kind, Éara. Let him go and find someone else who can love you as much as you deserve to be loved."

My friend gives me a look that could break Sauron's heart. Then, she turns and flees down the hallway, golden hair sailing out in a mane behind her. I shake my head. Éara is being too dramatic, unable to let it go. I don't know how I can help her see the truth without beaking her fragile heart into a million little pieces.

"Ishleen."

I spin on my heel, and stand, gaping like a fish out of water. Aragorn has walked up behind me, almost unnoticed. There is no sign of his recent ordeal in his face except for a very vague pallor.

"But…you were poisoned!"

"And I have healed. Tell me what troubles, you, lady. There is a strange quality about you that I have not seen before."

I sigh. He probably won't take no for an answer, so I start my story, hanging my head a little bit in shame that I have probably hurt the young Rohirrim girl even more.

"The young girl who healed you, the one they call Éara," I begin, "she seems to have amorous thoughts about your friend, Legolas. She mistook simple kindliness for a return of her affections and was going to attempt to build a relationship. I tried to explain to her that their hearts are destined to be apart, that they were not made for each other, and I did a poor job. She left more upset than she came. I cannot begin to imagine what sort of horror I have inadvertantly inflicted upon her. But that is not nearly the worst part. Éara still believes that she and Legolas can be together. I don't want her to get hurt, but by trying to save her, I am only hurting her more."

Aragorn nods slightly, appearing lost in deep though. Then he smiles at me.

"Hearts are made of glass, Ishleen. One fell stroke and they will shatter, sometimes never to be pieced back together again. And sometimes, the person refuses to piece their own heart together. You have not hurt Éara, she has hurt herself. You did what was right.

"However, glass can be melded together, become one with another. For those who are fortunate enough, they may have a single entity with the one they love."

And he pulls me into a kiss.

~oOo~

When we break apart, I notice the same golden-haired woman standing at the end of the secluded corridor where we were speaking. When I turn to her, she scowls darkly and turns away, leaving me worried and flustered at what she has just seen.

Aragorn, oblivious to the girl, reaches out and tenderly strokes my cheek.

"My heart has yearned to be one with yours since you won that duel. I was afraid; afraid that you would not return my love. It is not like me to afraid. However, I have a tendency not to face the fears I do have. Do you return this affection for me?"

I smile, not even noticing as the scar on my cheek stretches painfully.

"I would give up a thousand days of my life to spend just one with you."

A call echoes from down the hall, and we both recognize the voice of the king. Both turning , we separate like to roads stretching in different directions, I to my rooms and him to the king's side, probably to aid with the cleaning up of the battlefield.

However, I do not get far before I am accosted by the Rohirrim girl who saw us earlier. She wears the thunderclouds as an expression, but her eyes are sad and lost.

"What do you think you are doing?"

I try to act innocently.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not know who he is?" she is nearly snarling, "He is the future king of Gondor! He will be forced to marry a noblewoman once he is crowned."

I am sent reeling. This explains the fact that Théoden called Aragorn "my lord", but why didn't he tell me?

The girl's voice softens.

"No matter how much he may love you, he will lose his honour if he marries one of you. I am trying to save you from a broken heart."

"What is your name?"

"Éowyn, niece of Théoden, lady."

"Éowyn, broken hearts can be mended. Glass can be reshaped. Come with me."

I escort Éowyn to my chamber, a circular room near to the very center of the fortress. It is bare, free of any ddecoration, making it all the more obvious that Helm's Deep was constructed for one purpose and one purpose only: war.

We both sit down on my bed, and I am reminded of my dearest friend of my childhood, Elestren. We used to sit on my silky elven bed for hours and tell secrets to one another. But Elestren is gone, dead. I will never forgive myself for her death.

"Do you have my word," I begin cautiously, "That you will never tell another soul about what I am to confide in you?"

Éowyn nods mutely.

"I have to tell someone, someone must know fo this, for fear that I may be killed. Are you sure you want to hear the horrors that I am going to tell you?"

Éowyn nods mutely again, her huge doe-eyes even wider than normal.

"Because of what you told me, I consider you my friend. That is the only reason I tell this to you. When I was a child, I was a daughter of the queen of a now sunken kingdom, Toiréasa. It was broken in a shifting of the world, caused by a great evil malice, whose minions walked often in our lands. I, my mother and my little sister Ashling were the only ones that survived, flying away on the great eagle Gwaihir, whom we had always been close to.

"Gwaihir took us to the realm of Lothlorien, where my mother instructed that I remain. She told me that the elves could protect me, and that she and Ashling had to leave so that the evil that destroyed our people would not find all of us, and that the royal blood of Toiréasa would run on.

"I lived in Lothlorien for a time, and then, on my twelfth birthday, the shadow found me. In desperation, Lady Galadriel tried to save me by sending me away, but I was honour-bound to save my three best friends, Magaihd, Angharad and Elestren. In my attempt to bring them to safety with me, Angharad and Elestren were killed, for the shadow found us. However, Magaihd and I escaped on a boat and we disappeared down the river of Lorien. I cannot even begin to describe the grief we felt, but Magaihd was also of kin to the Lord Celeborn, and we needed to find a safe place to stay. We chose the small village of Kyria, which, by some brilliant coincidence, happened to be the same place my mother and Ashling chose to hide. For three years we lived there in peace, and Magaihd became one of our family. And then the orcs descended, killing all, including my mother and sister. I did not find Magaihd among the dead, so I am lead to believe that se escaped. The only reason I did not tell your uncle of this was because, up until recently, the elves and the Rohirrim have not been on good terms. I did not want to reveal Magaihd's kinship to King Théoden for fear that he would expose her.

"And so I came to meet my destiny here." I finish somewhat lamely. Until the very end, the words flowed easily and freely out of my mouth. Now, I do not have the heart to finish. I very nearly lose myself to the grief of having my mother die, all of the citizens of Toiréasa die, and then Magaihd go missing.

Éowyn's mouth is hanging open slightly.

"You are really from the lost kingdom?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"I promise, then, that I will not reveal your secret until the day I die. Nor Magaihd's. But I believe that I, too, have a secret to tell you. I did not reveal Lord Aragorn's true identity to you because I wanted to help you. No, I have long loved him also. And now I feel cruel because of what I did."

I shake my head.

"No, Éowyn, love is not something that can always be beaten down by honesty. It was not you that was being malicious, it was your heart, knowing that you and Aragorn are not destined to be one."

A single tear runs down Éowyn's face, and then she gets up and leaves.

I seem to spend a fair bit of my time telling my new friends who doesn't love them. It almost reminds me of Angharad, and her many amorous advances with the soldiers of Mirkwood who sometimes came to visit us. It was more than once that I was forced to give Angharad good advice concerning these men. Perhaps, thanks to her, it has become a talent of mine.

**Whoa! This is literally the longest chapter I've ever written on FanFiction, period. It took me two days to write it, so please spare a moment to review. It means the world to me, and I will respond to all of them in the next chapter.**

**BeautifulCrimsonChaos**


	11. Chapter 11: What Is Fear?

**Hi there peeps! The next chapter is officially up and ready for public viewing. Let's have some applause…*crickets chirping*…Awww! Well, here it is anyways. I'm gonna be gone to overnight camp for two weeks, so no updates until I get back. Sorry! However, I'll try to update all my stories (yes, all seven of them) before I go. Sorry about the long wait.**

**Now for the responses to all of the amazing reviewers…**

**FairElvenMaiden: I salute you! As my only reviewer of this chapter. I'm considering putting a little bit of Legolas and Gimli into this chapter, but I also have some character development planned for Ishleen. I was talking to my literary friend and he said the best stories are the ones where the character changes for the better as the story goes on, and finds out more about themselves. I'm going to try my best to follow his advice. Thank you so much for always reviewing my work!**

**And now, we continue with the much-anticipated installment of **_**As The World Comes Crashing Down**_**! *Theme song plays*.**

I toss and turn in my small wooden bed, tracing the patterns in the stone wall absentmindedly with my middle finger. The events of today replay over and over in my mind, haunting me like a shadow of my past.

_Flashback_

_I walk absentmindedly around on the wall, thinking of all the carnage that took place here mere hours before. Now, the whole place is silent, except for the occasional wail of grief. It sends shivers running up my spine._

_A slight tap on my shoulder causes me to turn, startled._

"_Ishleen." It is Aragorn, "I wanted to apologize for the way I acted earlier. I was not myself, and I think the recent battle was still too near."_

_Out of the blue, I start to cry, and he looks down, shocked._

"_It's not you who needs to apologize," I murmur, "But me, for what I am about to say. I am not ready for this love, Aragorn. Not yet, maybe not ever."_

_And I turn and run back along the stonily silent corridors._

_End Flashback_

Why did I do that to him? What devil possed my heart when I spoke those words? But there is something in my telling me to stop, that this realtionship can't possibly turn out. But what emtion does this voice speak for?

I slight tap on my door causes me to raise my head, curls flying everywhere. Who could be calling on mw at this hour?

"Enter." My voice is thick with sadness.

The door opens and a slight crack of light shines through. Then a lantern enters, followed by it's bearer. Said bearer is Éowyn.

"You looked so sad earlier," she says, coming over to sit next to me. I move over and we both lean against the cold stone wall, "I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"You have enoug troubles. I do not want to burden you with my own."

"Ishleen, look at me."

I stare up nervously into her sad blue eyes.

"I can help you, and you are my friend. Don't try to be selfless when you obviously need to talk to someone. What happened?"

"I told Aragorn that I didn't love him when I actually do," something snaps inside me and it all comes pouring out, "There is a part in me that tells me this won't work out, and whenever I try to fight it, it brings back memories of Elestren, and Angaharad, who I was helpless to save. And then my mother and sister and Maghaid. All the relationships I have ever had have gone wrong, Éowyn! I don't think I trust myself any more."

Éowyn pushes her golden hair back out of her eyes.

"Once, when I was young, my world was empty. I saw no hope. Darkness clouded the light in the world. It took me years to realise why I was friendless, why I was so cold. I was afraid, Ishleen. Afraid of loosing another after my whole world was taken from me. I think you feel the same way."

"I am not frightened."

"Ishleen, you lost your whole kingdom, your father, your best friends, your mother, your sister and the only home you ever knew after Toiréasa was destroyed. You have every right to be scared. Stop telling yourself you aren't."

"But my whole life was centered around being strong…I can't become afraid when Middle Earth needs me the most."

"You are a very proud person, Ishleen. It was what was expected of you when you were younger, and still lived in Toiréasa. But you lead a different life here. Your pride can be used for something more, something queenly. All you have to do is explain what happened to you to Aragorn, and apologise. This won't be easy, trust me. I am proud, too. But in the longer term, it will help you rule Gondor."

I stare at her. Faith is something I have not experienced for a long time. Faith in me. I think when the last of my friends, Maghaid, died, the faith went out for me. And here is someone who trusts me, someone who could just have easily become my enemy. And yet, Éowyn believes that I can become the queen of Gondor.

**OK, I know that there was no Legolas or Gimli in that chapter, but I felt like it was necessary for the story to continue nicely and the characters to develop. Thank you so much for reading and please review for me!**

**~BeautifulCrimsonChaos**


	12. Chapter 12: Forgiven

**Hello everyone. I didn't get any reviews last chapter. However, I probably deserved that as I haven't updated for positively AGES. I have been really busy working on my Sherlock story I Will Find You. But I got a follow, and it reminded me that this story has readers, too.**

**This chapter is dedicated to FairElvenMaiden, because she is dedicated to this story.**

Aragorn just stares at me, shocked. I have never told my story to anyone before. Is this how people would react to it?

"I'm sorry. I was afraid and I was not thinking. Truly, I do love you. I just did not know how to tell you that. Please forgive me."

My hands are shaking, and I enfold them deeper within my dark blue cloak. Aragorn reaches in and takes my left hand in his right. Smiling ever so slightly, he looks into my eyes.

"You are forgiven, Ishleen. Come, you ride with us to the dwelling of Saruman."

~oOo~

Many hours later, I have congealed most of my things into one compact bundle which I can attach to Ashling's back. I am just setting a deerskin overtop, to keep the rain out, when Éowyn marches in. She looks sad and angry.

"My father has told me to stay behind. Why is it that you ride when I do not?"

"I cannot change the will of a king, Éowyn."

"But you are a princess!"

"I am a princess of a kingdom that has drowned beneath the waves of Ulmo. This is not my kingdom. And you are not my niece."

"Then I will miss you."

"I will miss you, too."

And we embrace each other tightly. Éowyn is one of the first close friends I have had since Maghaid died. In the face of never seeing her again, I make sure she is aware of my gratitude towards her.

**Very short and sweet. PLEASE review.**

**BCC**


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